AFTER MY DIVORCE, I MARRIED MY EX HUSBAND'S UNCLE

Chapter one

“Dear Sister”

The golden rays of the summer sun bathed the grounds in warmth and light as Olivia Tran strolled up the stone path toward the mansion. One hand rested gently over her rounded belly, the other lightly swaying as she hummed a familiar melody under her breath. Near the entrance, Rose, the housekeeper, stepped forward to greet her, a mix of concern and affection etched into her features as she took Olivia’s bag.

“Miss Tran,” Rose murmured softly, her voice laced with hesitation.

Olivia responded with a gentle smile, her eyes glowing with quiet resolve that seemed to push away any unease. She moved through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, her heartbeat quickening with every step, part hope, part dread.

Just as she reached the door, she stopped short, instinctively tightening her arms around her stomach. From inside, the sounds were unmistakable laughter, flirtatious and feminine, followed by a man’s deep, affectionate murmur. Olivia’s smile faltered ever so slightly, her eyes misting over.

“Another one of those days,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she turned the knob and entered the room. What she saw made her stomach drop. There, tangled in the sheets of their bed, was her husband Mason Hall with another woman.

That woman turned to her with a wicked grin. It was Ava Walker.

“Well, well… dear sister,” Ava said mockingly, her voice laced with venom.

Olivia stared at her, stunned, mind racing to comprehend what she was seeing. Mason shifted uncomfortably, pulling away from Ava and standing up. His eyes drifted to Olivia’s belly there was a fleeting flicker of concern, but it vanished quickly, replaced with cold indifference.

“You always knew you were just filling in,” Mason said, his tone cruel. “The moment Ava came back, she would take her rightful place as Mrs. Hall.”

His words sliced through Olivia like a knife, but she didn’t let her expression break. Her smile, however fragile, remained. Somewhere in her heart, she still clung to the delusion that Mason might have truly cared.

Their marriage had always been a delicate façade. Three years earlier, when Ava had abandoned Mason on their wedding day unable to come to terms with his illegitimacy and what that meant for their future Mrs. Walker had hastily offered her other daughter, Olivia, to preserve appearances and protect family honor.

And Olivia had accepted, stepping into a marriage never meant for her.

Mason had only agreed to marry Olivia because he believed Ava would eventually return once her pride had recovered. For the first two years of their marriage, he had kept Olivia at a distance, instructing the household staff to refer to her as “Miss Tran” rather than “Mrs. Hall.” Even during their rare moments of intimacy, he always used protection.

But something had changed over the past year. Slowly, Mason’s coldness began to thaw. He started to appreciate Olivia’s presence, and their relationship deepened. Moments of passion emerged between them, and just a month ago, they had slept together this time without any barriers.

Olivia’s heart had soared with hope. She hadn’t yet told him, but she was pregnant. And despite everything, she’d been foolishly optimistic that maybe just maybe he had begun to care. But the image of him in bed with Ava shattered every ounce of that hope.

Let’s hear him out, Olivia silently encouraged herself, still wearing that fragile smile.

Mason, however, met her with fury in his eyes. Grabbing her face roughly, he stared at her as though trying to read her thoughts. Was she so desperate to leave me? He wondered bitterly. His grip tightened painfully.

A sharp sting bloomed in Olivia’s cheeks as his fingers dug into her skin. Her heart ached not just from the physical pain, but from the crumbling illusion she had desperately clung to.

Then Ava’s voice rang out, sweet and possessive. “Baby,” she cooed, calling to Mason.

At that, Mason finally let go of Olivia and reached for a folder on the nearby table. He held out the divorce papers, his tone devoid of emotion.

“As we agreed, once Ava returns, she becomes Mrs. Hall. Sign these and leave.”

Without argument, Olivia took the papers. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she signed them with mechanical precision. Mason’s expression hardened further.

“Now go,” he said coldly.

Olivia didn’t reply. Her eyes flickered to Ava, who looked smug and victorious. With quiet dignity, she turned and walked out of the room.

Downstairs, Rose stood waiting. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken sympathy. The terms had always been clear when Ava returned, Olivia would depart with nothing. The Hall family, one of New York’s most elite and powerful dynasties, always honored their ruthless contracts.

Meanwhile, across town, Logan Hall Mason’s uncle was interrupted by a call from his assistant, Reynolds.

“Mr. Hall,” Reynolds said nervously. “The old master has asked for your presence at the estate.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the phone in his hand. A photo of a woman stared back at him young, brunette, with hazel eyes.

“Did he say why?” Logan asked, voice flat.

“He didn’t mention any reason, sir,” Reynolds answered, wiping his brow anxiously.

Logan gave a nonchalant, “Oh,” and slipped the phone into his pocket before striding out of his office.

As Logan drove toward the mansion, the golden summer sky had darkened. Rain pelted the windshield in steady streams, casting a gray gloom over the city. The cheerful warmth of the day had disappeared, and with it, Logan’s usual ease. His smile faded into something more somber, thoughtful.

He glanced up from his MacBook briefly just in time to catch a figure standing by the mansion gates.

His brows drew together. “Olivia Tran,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Reynolds, sensing his curiosity, brought the car to a stop.

Logan’s eyes remained fixed on the lone woman in the rain. Soaked to the skin, Olivia clutched her belly protectively. Her expression was distant, her eyes unfocused under the downpour, but there was a fragile strength in the way she stood, refusing to bow to the storm.

There were no taxis nearby. none dared enter the gated estate without permission. Logan quickly surmised the truth: Mason had likely cut off her access to the Hall vehicles the moment she signed the divorce papers. She had no right to anything now not even shelter or transport.

As the car’s headlights bathed her in light, Olivia didn’t flinch or move closer. She just stood there, trembling, her drenched clothes clinging to her.

Then, slowly, her knees buckled.

Logan leaned forward just as her body crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Who is she?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her.

Reynolds adjusted his tie, eyes flicking nervously toward the fallen woman. “That’s Olivia Tran, sir. Mason’s ex-wife. Your nephew’s.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. The name stirred something an old letter from his father, dated three years ago, flashed in his memory. It had mentioned a last-minute replacement bride for Mason’s wedding. Logan had ignored the invitation, claiming business in Africa.

He had returned from abroad a year ago but had deliberately avoided any family gatherings. He had never met the woman Mason had married. Until now.

So why, of all nights, was Olivia standing alone in the rain outside the mansion?

Logan’s gaze sharpened with interest. Something didn’t add up.